


The Wolf that fell in love with Little Red Riding Hood

by TheShippingMaster



Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Little Red Riding Hood (Fairy Tale), Little Red Riding Hood - All Media Types, Vocaloid
Genre: Based on a Vocaloid Song, Beauty and the Beast Elements, F/M, Fairy Tale Curses, Fairy Tale Retellings, Magic, Romance, Tragedy, frog prince vibes, if thats a thing, is not nice, reverse werewolf, swan lake vibes, watching your best friend die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22433980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShippingMaster/pseuds/TheShippingMaster
Summary: A classic fairy tale retold with a twist.Sometimes the story is not what it seems, but people get hurt nonetheless.This story is a mix of the original Grimm tale with elements from Swan Lake, Frog Prince & Beauty and the Beast.
Relationships: Big Bad Wolf & Little Red Riding Hood (Little Red Riding Hood - Fairy Tale), Big Bad Wolf/Little Red Riding Hood (Little Red Riding Hood - Fairy Tale)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea for this story after listening to a song with the same title by Kagamine Rin and Len. This was originally posted on fanfiction.net, but I've been reworking and editing it.

Once upon a time, there was a King and Queen of a great and vast kingdom. The royal couple had only one child, whose destiny would be to one day grow up to inherit the throne. Their fourteen year old son was much admired by neighbouring kingdoms, blessed with his father’s blue eyes and handsome face, and his mother’s raven hair and manners. He was a force to be reckoned with, a storm that passed through the kingdom as he had his fun.

But he had one best friend, a son of the kingdom’s sorceress. She was powerful, manipulative and overprotective when it came to her only child- something most mothers could attest to. But above all, she was someone not to be dealt with.

One day, there was a fatal accident and- well, let’s get into it.

* * *

Deep in the depths of the dark forest, two teenage boys were climbing trees. It was early, and the forest smelled damp and like wet leaves, covered by a thick blanket of fog that made it difficult to see beyond the length of one’s arm. The boy positioned up high in the pine tree let out a feral holler, leaning his head back and taking the tree with him.

“Come on, Damien! I’m sure the son of a sorceress could magic himself up here to get a look at this view!” he taunted, semi-teasingly.

Damien, already nervous about climbing the needle-like trees in the first, stuck his tongue out. “Shut up, your royal highness. We both know that this was the worst possible day to go climbing.” His hold around the tree grew tighter when he accidentally peeked at how high up they’d gotten.

But the young prince only wanted to go higher, to reach the peak and break through the cloud. It was always worth it to even catch a glimpse at the castle. He glanced down at his anxious friend and sighed. Reluctantly, he began to climb down carefully, aware of the slick branches and soft moss. Damien followed the prince’s lead, not bothering to mask his glee as they descended.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Damien whispered as he slowly made his way down.

A cheeky grin grew on the prince’s lips. He held himself a distance from the trunk and slid down the side like a pole. Damien shrieked as he shot past him, halting just below the other’s feet.

“Will, be careful!” his voice shook, angling his head around to try and look at his friend. Prince William held with one arm around the trunk and another on a branch and leaned back, smiling full-faced at him.

“I’m fine! It’s fine, Damien, to have a little fun.”

“Not if your life is at risk,” Damien muttered, rethinking why he kept royal company. He didn’t have the nerves of steel Will had when it came to adventuring alone. He kept his steady pace of being _extremely_ cafeul. If his mother found out where he’d been, or worse if he had been injured, he would never hear the end of it.

“The fun is the danger,” laughed Will.

Damien sighed and had reached Will’s level when he noticed the fog parting. He pointed straight ahead and stayed silent, letting Will’s eyes follow. In the clearing, up on some rocks, were a pack of wolves. There were about seven or eight that they counted, all large and fierce, their snouts stuck in a permanent growl to showcase their yellowed teeth. Their colours varied from the night sky to freshly landed snow.

Making a quick assessment, Will thanked the gods that they both were downwind. He pressed a finger to his lips; Damien shivered and nodded, clinging onto the branches. With a little prodding and encouragement, Will managed to get Damien to climb up higher, just for safety’s sake. It didn’t matter that these wolves looked as if they could scale the tree with a single jump, they were getting up.

Sure, Prince William was a brave boy, with the heart of a true prince, protecting his friend before his own life. But he was only a boy, what could be realistic done in this situation? After pushing Damien’s butt up with his forearms, Will did his best to climb up quietly. Unfortunately, a branch snapped under his weight, and he nearly slipped had it not been for Damien quickly reaching out and grabbing Will’s arm. The sound cracked silence. The wolves’ heads shot up, the biggest one making a show of sniffing the air.

It was well known that wolves often roamed around Darkwood, but they of such rare occurrence during the day. Will peered at them, feeling his blood pump at the extraordinary moment his eyes roamed, doing his best to remember the details. It was a beauty; dark grey with streaks of silver, and Will felt his skin prick as he thought that this beast looked intelligent, if not wise.

Damien had long since shut his eyes, praying for his mother to come collect them.

The wolf lowered its head and stared directly at Will. Goosebumps exploded all over his arms, the hairs on the back of his neck standing straight up. Will lost his breath, too stunned and mesmerised by the golden eyes that glared almost challengingly. Adrenaline rushed through, but the young prince couldn’t tell if it was from sheer excitement or fear. Maybe both. He held his gaze with the alpha, not daring to taunt it with a raised eyebrow or smirk. Rather, Will felt enormous respect.

After what seemed like an age, the alpha barked at the pack. Slowly they trickled out of the thicket of rock and tree and headed up the mountainside. The alpha remained the last to go, still staring at Will until the last of its pack disappeared. Whether or not it was his imagination, Will could not surmise, but it seemed as if the wolf bowed before it bounded away.

Will let out a breath and relaxed, unaware that he’d tensed up in the first place. He poked Damien, who’s teared-up face shot up.

“They’re gone.”

“What?” Damien asked shakily and glanced around. He let out a sob of relief. “ Can we go back home now?”

No sense arguing about it. Will felt the sun shine on his face, and leaned out to bear the full brunt of its warmth. The fog was lifting and the morning was bleeding into the afternoon; the castle would be plenty busy now and easy to sneak back into. The boys made their descent, Damien taking a slightly longer time with his chittering about safety and how much trouble they could have gotten into. Once they touched ground they sprinted as fast as they could.

They followed the path that brought them back to a village of their kingdom, making a quick stop to buy a bushel of apples. The woman who’d sold them the apples greeted Will warmly, caught unaware of his identity as he wore a simple (albeit dirty) shirt and brown pants rolled up to his knees, but regarded Damien with caution. Neither boy missed her curled lip as she eyed Damien up and down. Will felt his blood boiling as they made their way back to the city, venting out his annoyance on Damien’s behalf.

It only worsened once they entered the city. Will felt the eyes watch them, curious as to who was walking with the sorceress’s son. He had half a mind to tell them to stop, that Damien was nothing like his scary mother, that he was kind and yes, maybe less than special, but it was what made him such a good friend. He was the only boy who had any idea of Will’s plight.

Damien would never tell him if the stares and whispered hurt him, but Will was sure he noticed how they constantly circled him wherever he went. Maybe it was what made Will a good friend to him. He could imagine being feared for not what he was but who his relations were.

They took their secret path into the castle, sneaking in through the walls that led to the bursting kitchens. They went up several floors, managing to stick to the walls of obscurity until a guard halted them for entering anymore flights of stairs.

“Prince William, their Highness the King and Queen would like to see you and Master Damien in the throne room,” the chamberlain tsked, disappointed to see the young prince in common clothing.

Just to be sure he arrive there, two knights held Will by the arms and escorted him. The throne room was as grand as any part of the castle, its decorum baroque and fringed with imported marble. The King and Queen, the gold reflecting off the lights as so to give them a halo, sat with a furious expression as their son entered. The Queen stood and marched up to her son, enraged.

“William Michael Frank Peter, time and time again I warn you against dressing as a commoner and yet here you are!” She grabbed him by the wrist and yanked his arm toward her. She shoved his sleeve in his face. “What will it take for you to listen to me? Surely you know by now how dangerous it is.”

The prince tried to get a word in but was halted as his mother started each new sentence. He sheepishly smiled at his father, a futile attempt to show he was sorry. The King did not return the same jovial spirit that his son had offered him, remaining stoic upon his throne. His grin slipped off his face as he felt some twinge of shame climb his neck.

“And you are absolutely filthy,” sighed the Queen, disappointment evident in her voice as she returned to her husband’s side.

“Mother, if you could please-“

“No. I will not entertain you anymore with these childish antics, William.”

“But if you would just-“

“William, I swear!”

“Mother, please-“

“You are nearly of age. It is time you got more serious in your studies.” The Queen sat back down and exchange a glance with her husband. “Lord knows what this kingdom would become if we didn’t at last try to train you.”

William groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. They always did this. They never tried to listen to him. His patience was threatening to snap. “Mother, Father-“

“Why are you still in this dirty garb?”

“Your majesties, we saw a pack of wolves in the dark forest!” Damien shouted, eyes shut.

The royals stopped their bickering and stared at him. Will tried to shake his head without getting caught, signalling for Damien to _shut up_. The older boy winced but did his best to stand his ground, straightening up as he remember his mother’s grooming.

“It was nothing serious really,” insisted Will through grit teeth. He was silenced as his father stood.

“Wolves? Are you certain, boy?” his deep voice boomed.

Under the scrutiny of such a presence, Damien cowered as he confirmed that yes, they saw a wolf pack. When he dared to feel brave, Damien stole a glance at the King. He was surprised to find that the King was fearful, a hand stretched back to be grasped by his wife, who was as pale as the throne room curtains.

“Conrad, they are too far east.” She whispered into his hand.

The two boys didn’t really understand the gravity of what they’d seen. William was still plotting ways to get back at Damien for snitching, and how he could get the moss stains out of his shirt. Not because his mother complained about it! Nope, not at all. He wanted to clean it because he wanted it. Meanwhile, Damien was pissing his pants in fear of what punishment the King would bestow. And now that he was thinking about it, his mother would kill him knowing that he’d been that close to danger.

Neither boy moved, having not been dismissed. The King turned his attention to matters at hand cleared his throat.

“You are forbidden to go back to the dark forest.” It was final. Will opened his mouth but closed it with the intense look the King gave him. “Damien, I think you should be heading back to your mother.”

Two guards stepped forward, separating the boys. Will tried to catch his friends eye, but Damien already was reserved and hung his head as he was escorted out.

* * *

“This is a _very bad idea_ , Will!” Damien whined, several meters behind Will, arms tucked close as he examined everything they passed. “Your father, the _King_ , forbade you.”

Will shushed him and kept on whacking at the bush. They entered a clearing, a breakaway from the rows of black bark and entered a beach of rock beside a rushing river. Will’s eyes were peeled out for the wolves while Damien’s were focused on the rocks. As they headed further downstream, the terrain became much more uneasy and dangerous. The rocks were black and grey, slick with constant spray and algae. Damien was having a harder time keeping up with his friend.

“I think I found something!” exclaimed Will, kneeling to examine a set of paw prints. He tasted a piece of dirt, something he saw the soldiers do in training.

Damien’s voice wobbled as he called out for him. “Hey, Will.”

“No! Hold that thought and come here!” Will waved at him to come closer. “I found some tracks!” When Damien remained silent, Will annoyingly turned. “Hey, did you not hear me?”

But Damien had taken off, tumbling over the rock to get to the treeline.

“You found their tracks, but they found us!” he shrieked.

Confused, Will looked behind him and saw a pack of four wolves eyeing them. Sweat broke over his neck, despite the cool morning, and he jumped up. He ran as best he could and caught up to Damien. He made the mistake of looking over his shoulder and felt his legs go wobbly at the sight of a white wolf charging at them.

* * *

His legs were so wobbly, but he willed himself to stand upright and not lean against his mother. The woman in red was screaming at him, yelling out her curses. Her eyes were bloodshot, and his shirt was blood filled. Even though Will was looking right at the women in red, he wasn’t really seeing her. He couldn’t even hear her, not over the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.

Why was he here again? His breathing was quick and in short bursts. The blood on his commoner’s shirt, which still had the moss stains he realised, were not his. At least, he did not feel any pain anywhere on his torso. How did he get home?

The woman in red yelled and yelled, her voice coarse but powerful. She was held back by four guards, three tossed on the floor knocked out cold after feeling the brunt force of her magic.

Oh yeah, she was Damien’s mother.

Damien.

Then it came back to Will. He and Damien were running away when he slipped. The rocks were large and uneven, and unbelievably sharp. Damien’s head cracked open upon first impact. There had been so much blood that the riverside might’ve been permanently stained. Will tried to stop the bleeding, but could only scream his voice hoarse until two passers-by helped them. They had to pry his hands off Damien’s head.

Pairs of glowing eyes haunted the memory of his travels back to the kingdom walls. They had been following them, Will was sure of it. They hadn’t put up a real chase; it had been playing with them.

When they brought Damien away from the throne room and into the medical wing, Will had insisted he follow. He thrashed and struggled to break free as they dragged him away, calling out his name, asking if he would be okay, telling them to let go of him. That was when she came in.

He had never really met Damien’s mother before, only stolen glimpses when she performed her magic for his parents or when he dropped Damien off at their tower. Her hair was wild- something he’d envisioned for a sorceress like herself, and she was draped in a red dress that matched her flaming hair. While her dress was plain, she wore an array of accessories around her neck and wrists.

“My son is dead because of you!” was one of the things Will managed to make out as his hearing returned. Guilt constricted his stomach as his feelings returned in a tidal wave.

He stumbled forward, caught his mother’s arms and fell as tears streamed down his face. “It was an accident,” he pleaded. “We didn’t mean to go so far. The wolves came out of nowhere and-“ The lump in his throat choked his words.

There was no other feeling than grief and anger combined that consumed the sorceress, and as she stared down at the prince she felt her anger ebb and overpower the sadness. Her voice was low, face hidden in shadow with her hair falling down as her power concentrated in her hands. “I am a friend of the Royal Family no more.”

“Amalyn, please. I’m sure we can sort this out,” the King tried reasoning. He flinched at the sight of the sorceress’s eyes rolling into the back of her head.

Dark wisps slowly circled around her feet, charging around and around like a storm cloud. She raised her head and let the power grow.

“Your incompetence to control your son has cost mine his life.” She directed her arms at Prince William. “I curse this child to live out the rest of his life as a wolf. Only a woman in red will break his spell.”

“Ermengarde!” the King shouted, racing toward his wife, who still clutched onto their son. She was in tears but refused to let go and had to be pulled apart from her sobbing boy.

A blast of dark blue energy shot out of the sorceress’s fingertips. It travelled across the glossy and polished marbled floor, absorbing any light reflected off the smooth surface. The wisps no longer looked soft and cloud-like. Instead, they resembled arrowheads, headed straight for the boy with a vengeance.

Will saw them enter and surround him, but felt no pain nor hurt. His skin tingled and he felt oddly light, like he was floating. The change began with his hands; his nails grew rapidly not only in length but in thickness; hair sprouted out of their follicles exponentially and were mildly uncomfortable, but Will felt not too bad. He would soon regret that thought. A sharp pain was felt in his back, especially so around his tailbone. Bones cracked as they elongated and pushed at the skin. Will had to hunch over and bit his lip to stop from screaming. He felt his face rearrange, his ears moving from the sides to the top of his head, morphing.

The sharp cloud of dark blue got thicker and thicker, to the point where nobody could see Will anymore. The King and Queen held to each other for life, mortified expressions glued on as the walls of Will’s resistance broke down, his deep screams echoing around the chamber.

When is dissipated, the Queen covered her mouth in an agonised cry. What stood before them was no longer a person, but a wolf.

“Please,” begged Queen Ermengarde, falling to her knees and grasping at the skirts of the Sorceress Amalyn. “Please, there has to be another way!”

The sorceress’s top lip curled at the indignity of it all. But she did feel pity, from one mother to another. She didn’t think she had any pity left to spare, but nonetheless it reminded her of her son, and how he would want her to spare some kindness. She closed her heart to that feeling. _But this one last time . . ._

“Very well.” She took a step back from the snivelling queen. “You may have caused me the greatest pain, but out of the kindness my son once showed, I will bestow this: Prince William will be allowed to turn human at the height of the full moon. He will have only one night per month to return back and do whatever it is he desires.” She pointed out to the sky. “But once the sun’s rays touch the morning sky, he will turn back to a wolf.”

“Conrad,” gasped the Queen, reaching behind for the warmth of her husband.

“I will show myself out,” growled the sorceress, eyeing the spears the guards held. She disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.

Will was still recovering from his transformation, but felt the loss of his friend more acutely. If he could bury his head in shame he would. How could he live like this? The palace would be afraid of him. He could never sneak out to the forest again. As he glanced at his parents, tightly embracing each other, he longed for their touch. Where would they keep him? In his room? The dungeons? How would they explain this to their people? How could they love him like this? His heart hardened at the thought. Nobody could ever love him like this.

He made the decision for them and ran out of the throne room, out of the palace, onto the street where he was met with shrieks and calls for help. He didn’t stop when he entered the dark forests’ threshold, running up the mountainside until he could no more and collapsed with exhaustion.

* * *

Soon after, the Queen sent out search party after search party to look for her lost son. She stays staring out beyond their kingdom’s border, high up in his old bedroom, wrapped around his blankets and shirts and other stuffs that smelled like him. She died months later.

The King concocted a story of how their son left for training and would return whence older. But rumours spread of how their crown prince was cursed never to take the throne again.

Skirmishes popped up over the kingdom; rebels, backed by a powerful sorceress, who believed their usurper would improve their lives. A year later, the King was defeated in battle and the sorceress took up his throne and crown. The Sorceress Amalyn had taken up her revenge on the Royal family. She announced herself as ruler of the Darkwood Kindgom.

All young Prince Will do was watch as the place he called home was destroyed.


	2. 1, 2, 3 years later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet our Little Red Riding Hood.

In a cottage situated on the borderlands of the Kingdom of Darkwood and the dark forest, a young girl sat in her bedroom and braided red ribbons into her blonde hair. Her mirror was dull and barely gave off her reflection, but the light that steaked in through the opened windows lit her room in a golden haze. It was a warm summer’s day and the breeze had just started, ruffling with the strands of her hair.

Downstairs she heard her mother gather their things and flit around. It was coronation day for the new queen, and they were to bring offerings as a gift.

“Red, my dear, please hurry up! We can’t be late today,” mother called out from below.

The girl tied the ends of her braid and took one last look at her black and red dirndl, smoothing down the pristine apron. In a few years she would be qualified for a corset. She felt her excitement grow at the prospect of looking more mature.

“Redwyn!”

“Coming mama!” she replied. Doing a once-over in the mirror, Red rushed out of her room and skipped down the stairs.

Her mother was dressed in a matching dirndl, her own long hair braided up into a bun. When she saw her daughter her frustrations melted away into admiration for how _very cute_ she looked. Her teary eyes and clasped fingers betrayed the promise made earlier in the week that she would not get emotional at seeing Red in her new dirndl. Red groaned and turned away from her mother at the sight, a blush creeping up her neck.

“Mama, you promised!”

“I’m not doing anything. Besides, we have to leave now if we want to make it on time.” She clapped her hands. “We have to hurry along now!”

Both mother and daughter walked hand-in-hand through their little neighbourhood and entered the bustle of the city kingdom. The shimmering towers of the new castle glistened in the distance, the vision blessed by clear, blue skies and wonderful weather. Red remembered them under construction for the past year. Mama had told her that the new Queen got rid of the old castle, her way of rebuilding the past and bringing the future. Red didn’t care about all of that. The towers and body had practically grown out of the ground in a matter of months, and hearing chatter in the market made it known to her that it was not normal. Mama said she would explain how the new Queen did it when we was older.

She was thirteen. She was old enough!

Others travelled around them, carrying their own red paraphernalia. Dressed in their nicest, best clothing, Red recognised their baker, the kids she played with, and the weird huntsman that Mama said to avoid. Everyone chatted lively, the air teeming with excitement. Some of the older folk were dragging their legs to the coronation square, their permanent frowns letting it be known they did not approve of this holiday.

As they reached the square, the pair made their way around. A week ago, they’d received an invitation to sit in the royal boxes- something about a lottery win. Red had been so excited she practically flew off the walls. Even now, she jittered and could barely contain herself.

The box they were ushered into was high up, close to the castle walls that met the dark forest. There was a clear view of the nobles, the jousting rounds set down below, and the immense crowd that had formed over the course of the afternoon.

“That’s where the Queen will emerge after receiving the crown,” Mama said, pointing to the palace balcony. Red craned her neck up, hoping to catch a glimpse. Fanfare could be heard from within the walls and a hush descended on the public. “The ceremony is starting.”

Red was severely disappointed that she couldn’t see much of anything. The most important bits happened inside with the priest and the other nobles. Occasionally someone would announce what was happening, but it was a real bore-fest. After an hour did the Queen present herself.

The crowd roared to life at the first sight of her, draped in a red cloak over a yellow dress. She looked so pretty. She was so close that Red could make out that the Queen had tears in her eyes. _Red eyes to match her red hair and outfit_ , Red sniggered. But it piqued her curiosity; why was she crying? Observing further, Red realised that the wide smile plastered on her face was fake and overstretched.

Meanwhile, the Queen had been making her speech to the public, her voice never wavering once. “-and so, my citizens, my only wish is that my son could’ve been here to witness me being crowned your Queen!”

The crowd cheered in response. Red’s mother clapped but remained unsmiling, with many others doing the same. It was hard to forget the revolution that took place a year and a half ago. The spouses of the lost soldiers were no doubt present in the crowd. But all of this was lost to Red, who only cheered as loud as she could.

Something in the corner of her eye moved. Red whipped her head around to look for whatever distracted her, but only found the newly painted walls. She frowned. There was something there, she was sure of it. If she squinted, she could faintly make out a figure in the treeline-

“Red, honey what is it?”

Red met her mother’s eyes. She pointed to the forest. “I think someone is out there.” Her mother peered out into the forest to double check, and even though she voiced how nonsensical it was, she didn’t let go of her daughter’s hand.

When the Queen retired in and the crowd dispersed, the party continued into the night. Sausages were being smoked and barbequed along large pits of fire, stalls of ale set up charging half price for this special occasion. Several bands were set up alongside the festival grounds, their instruments playing merry music and voices singing of inspirational folk heroes.

Red got permission to roam around by herself in effort to find her friends. All the smells and sounds were intense, and she couldn’t help but water over the sausages that were spoked. Using what little money she received, she bought herself brockwurst and several bratwurst for home. She nibbled as it cooled down, keeping her eyes peeled for Katinka and Gilbert. It was difficult in the firelight. Red avoided the drinkers, who’d gotten right into the festivities and were singing the kingdom’s new anthem with slurred words. She bit back laughter at how ridiculous many of these men looked, their lederhosen stained with beer. Only the full moon was their shining audience.

Unable to find them in this sector, Red moved on to a different cluster, one closer to the dark forest and the kingdom gates. The gates were a new addition, just like the palace walls extending beyond the palace to circumference the entire kingdom. She remembered asking her mother why they could no longer freely roam the forest like they used to; feeling like a caged bird wasn’t one she liked very much. Her mother wouldn’t tell her what had happened.

Katinka lived close to the edge, and Red hoped that maybe she could find her there. She passed by the shut gates and once again felt a familiar sensation of being watched. She paused and stared back, thinking that it would just be a murder of crows who’d settled on a pine tree. In the distance, however, was something that made her drop her basket of bratwurst.

There was a boy. There was a boy in the forest. He was staring right at her, his glowing eyes the only detail she could see. Her arms broke out into goose bumps. She didn’t dare take her eyes off him nor blink, for fear that maybe he would disappear.

“There’s a boy in the forest,” she whispered. He seemed to hear her and moved closer. Why couldn’t she move her feet? Oh, how she wished to run.

“Hey, there you are!” Gilbert shouted.

Red turned to face her friend and quickly grabbed him. “Do you see him?” she pointed out into the forest. Gilbert laughed awkwardly and shook his head.

“Do I see who?”

“There was a boy in the woods!”

At this point Katinka had caught up with Gilbert and joined their side. “What are we looking at?”

“Red said she saw a ghost in the woods.”

“It was a boy, not a ghost. And he was right there!” She gestured wildly, annoyed that the boy had disappeared and proved her insane.

“You have to be imagining things,” said Gilbert, shaking his head.

Katinka wiggled her eyebrows and nudged Red in the ribs. “Oooh, is he your imaginary boyfriend?”

Red fumed and picked up her basket. “I swear, he was right there. He was _right_ there.”

“Sure he was.” Both Katinka and Gilbert laughed and continued to tease Red about her delusion until the party ended.

* * *

**3 years later**

“Red, are you still in bed? You’re going to be late for your delivery!” The woman called from downstairs, packing fruits and freshly baked goods into a wicker basket. She received no response and sighed. “Red, wake up!”

A groan sounded from above and down stumbled her all-grown-up daughter. Groggy and hair in disarray, Red’s clothes were still from the day before and were wrinkled beyond anything. She’d definitely slept in her corset and skirts, for her back ached furiously. She got a thwack on the back of the head as she entered the kitchen.

“Red, you impossible girl,” grumbled her mother.

Red groaned, head throbbing immensely. Supporting did little to relieve her pain, nor were the glares her mother shot her every two seconds. Sure, she might still smell of ale and beer, and was suffering with only four hours of sleep, but it was Königinnentag, Queens Day. The entire kingdom had been out celebrating until dawn and then some. And sure, she might have a hangover, but only because Katinka had dared her to beat Gilbert in a drinking contest. She’d lost.

“Mama, let me,” she insisted, moving to the basket of goods. Her mother swatted her hands away. “Mama please.”

“Just get ready.” She turned away and continued to fix the arrangement.

Trudging back upstairs, Red got ready for the day. Replacing her dress with new skirts and a fresh linen top, Red checked her reflection. Nothing would hide those bags, but her hair could be fixed by a simple braid. At her dresser, Red smiled at the sight of her ancient ruby ribbons. The last time she’d worn these were years ago. They weren’t too torn. She weaved them in and out of her hair, which had grown long beyond her shoulders. Katinka often observed aloud, with some jealousy, how pretty and golden Red’s hair had remained over these years.

Descending below refreshed, her mother clicked her tongue in approval. “There is my daughter. Here.” She held out the basket in one hand, and had Red’s cloak draped over her other arm.

Laughing, Red took the goodies and let her mother drape the velvety maroon cloak over her shoulders, tying the strings together into a neat bow and pulling the hood up over her head. This cloak was her favourite, a present from her grandmother when she turned fourteen. It was embroided with gold thread, drawing out a pattern of flowers along the hem. The first day she’d debuted her present, the huntsman had called her Little Red Riding Hood. Mama liked the name and adopted it too.

“Your grandmother is going to notice that you’re very late,” scolded her mother, but a smile betrayed her tone. “Be careful, my little Red riding hood.”

Red groaned and turned to leave. “ _Please_ stop calling me ‘little’, I’m sixteen mother. Nearly seventeen!” She got pinched in the cheeks and feigned her pain.

“You’ll always be little to me. Now go, my dear Redwyn, before the day is wasted.”

Red’s laughter rang in the air as she waved her goodbye. Her mother waved back, glued to their front door.

“Don’t forget to keep on the path and not to stray away!”

* * *

Deep in the woods, off the paths created that joined Darkwood with the kingdoms of Firesword and Thornbristle, a young man lay in his home, a quiet den. He was still cursed, stuck in his wolf form until the sun set that night and the full moon rose high. He was determined to stay and reserve his strength until he could revert back and frolic in his body for the short summer night. Tucked away were his human clothes, ready for use.

Over the course of the last four years, Will had adapted to life on all fours. He’d learnt the hard way which territory belonged to which packs and groups and had managed to carve out this little spot for himself. It was close enough to Darkwood that he could observe his people and snarl at the Red Queen (when she wasn’t looking).

He slept with one eye open. It was never safe when hunters constantly were on the move; and the pack of wolves that dominated this region weren’t very friendly with him either.

His nose picked up on the smell of proper human food. Hmmm, apples, bread, tarts, _brockwurst_. He felt his mouth water and clamped a paw over his face to block out the desire to gobble it up. A smell like that was usually accompanied by a person, and he swore to never hurt people.

So while the smell grew closer, he ignored his growling belly. Agitated, he flipped around so he faced the inside of his den. Nope, he was not going to leave.

But then he heard the twig snaps before he smelt the foe. Oh no. _Alexander, please do not_ _do what I think you’re going to do_ , he silently begged.

When his senses betrayed him and forced him awake, Will reluctantly left his home and followed the smells. He raced down the mountain side, past the riverbank and toward the bridge set downstream. The smell was stronger now, and he could now make out for sure that this person was no castle guard or huntsman. He’d become trained in the distinction. The aroma was almost sweet- a girl?

He could faintly make out Alexander in the distance and boosted his speed. He needed to get to this girl before Alexander- there was no telling what Alexander would do to her. There was the problem of stealth; as a human Will could blend in with other people, but as a wolf it was wholly new. He needed to get up to Alexander and get him to back off the girl, or risk the girl seeing him and freaking out, which would bring a whole search party to hunt him down.

Alexander made a turn back into the forest; Will followed. The man-made path came into view, and a speck moving was the girl with her delicious food. Alexander was now in hiding. There was no way for Will to find him now without being exposed himself, so he slowed and kept his eyes pierced. He took refuge behind a cluster of pine trees and watched as the girl strolled along.

She was humming and swung her basket back and forth. She was carefree to the danger near her, a crown of flowers resting on her head and another in progress. All her attention seemed captivated to building this ornament.

Will tried to ignore the butterflies. It had been so long since he’d seen a pretty human girl that he’d nearly forgotten why he was here.

He took a wary step closer and stepped on a twig. The snap seemed to echo, and the girl stopped in her tracks. Will held his breath. She didn’t turn around, only observing. When she thought it was fine, she continued forth, whistling now.

Will’s ears moved as he heard soft scuffling and a deep growl. Alexander! He made to follow the sound, but out of the thicket burst Alexander, claws and teeth out aiming for the girl. She dropped her basket and screamed, arm outstretched to protect herself.

Without hesitation, Will pounced out and tackled Alexander down. The mountain lion yowled but was persistent in going after the girl, clawing at Will’s face while staring straight at her, hissing. The girl was frozen to the spot, having fallen down. Will bit and tore at Alexander, urging him to focus on himself and target him. He managed to roll Alexander over, growling at him with all the menace he had, and pinned him down. Alexander writhed. He got out Will’s grasp, but ended up on the wrong side; Will stood between him and the girl.

 _What are you waiting for?,_ Will thought, gnashing at the girl and sending her a warning growl to get out of here as soon as possible.

There were tears in her eyes as she watched wolf and mountain lion face off, but in her stricken state she managed to catch his gaze. Her dark eyes bore into his amber ones, and she seemed to understand his message. Shakily and quickly gathering her things, she took off down the path, not looking back once.

Enraged that his meal escaped, Alexander lashed out at Will, gaining the upper hand at his distracted state. Being larger and better skilled at fights, Alexander began to overpower Will without remorse, using his claws to his best abilities, as well as aiming for Will’s exposed neck. Will rolled away just as the cat’s jaws snapped shut.

 _Now what was that for?,_ said Alexander, narrowing his eyes. His side displayed an array of bite marks, but not as much blood.

 _I won’t let you kill her_ , Will replied, growling. He was in a worse shape compared to Alexander, his face beaten bloody and his sides scratched to death. They circled each other, yowling and growling.

 _This will cost you, Will_.

Will growled back. He felt his paw begin to limp and tried to feign strength. Alexander observed Will for a moment more before retreating to the forest, heading back up the mountain. Exhausted but glad, Will trudged to the side of the pass and collapsed just out of sight for the human road. In a few hours he would be human again.

A nap couldn’t hurt.

* * *

Red scampered and tumbled along the path until she was sure nothing was following her. Her lungs burned and her legs ached, wearing off from the adrenaline high. It registered in the very forefront of her mind that she could’ve nearly died; she placed a hand over her beating heart and supported herself by a tree, feeling the ba-bump ba-bump, a confirmation that she was alive. The cougar had come out of nowhere. But then again, so did that wolf.

Had the wolf been trying to protect her? It had burst through the thicket, scaring Red even more to death. She checked her basket of goods and recalled the way it glared at her. Almost like he was trying to speak to her. It was a warm day but goosebumps broke over her arms, and she tried to rub them away.

She did her best to calm down and make her way back to her grandmother’s cottage. Her grandmother lived in the Kingdom of Firesword, but was one of the few that still preferred to be surrounded by forest- Grandma Elena said it was because she liked the quiet. The city was too busy, too full of people she didn’t know and didn’t care to know.

Being that Firesword wasn’t too far away from Darkwood, Red was happy to visit her beloved grandmother, and began frequenting her more and more as she got older. The path to her house was so well ingrained in Red’s memory, that she could there blindfolded.

Not long after, she reached the house in a clearing. All kinds of flowers grew up and around the one storey house, giving off pleasant smells that attracted all kinds of bees and insects. It made Red feel better already, feeling the love put into the gardening shine through. The door was wooden and old, but the wreath that was on display was new. Red knocked on the door and heard a reply.

“Redwyn, dear! Oh, do come in. How I’ve missed you!” Grandma Elena exclaimed, her wrinkled face crinkling into a smile. She tried to get up from her rocking chair to clear her knitting things off the small coffee table.

Red rushed forward and offered her arm. Easing back into the wicker rocker, Grandma Elena reached out and enveloped Red in a hug. Inhaling, Red always loved how her grandmother always smelled of lavender and soil. It was so distinct yet curious; Grandma Elena didn’t grow any lavender.

“I’ve missed you too, grandmother,” she said into the old woman’s hair. Disentangling herself, Red placed the basket on the table and began unloading the fruits and pastries onto a display plate. “Mama got all your usual favourites. Especially the peach tarts, she bought extra.”

Grandma Elena eagerly accepted the dainty plate with peach tarts, mouth watering. “Oh, that Gwendolyn is too good to me. Give your mother my thanks.” She moaned as the first bite exploded in a sugary bomb.

Red laughed and took one of the apples, shining the skin on the inside of her cloak.

“Oh, my dear what happened to you?”

Red glanced up and followed Grandma Elena’s gaze. Her skirt had torn and was muddied- she hadn’t realised that before. She quickly covered herself with a blanket.

“Redwyn, what happened in the woods?”

Hesitantly, Red began to tell her of her encounter. The cougar, the wolf, her fear that she would die in the forest without anyone knowing. At the end of it all, Red realised she was shivering. Grandma Elena slipped out of her chair and wrapped a quilt around her granddaughter’s shoulders, caressing her hair, planting a kiss on her head.

“What matters now is that you are safe.”

The words were sweet, but Red still felt uneasiness at the idea of going back out into the forest. But she didn’t want to worry her grandmother any more than necessary, and so she smiled meekly and squeezed her arms. Changing the topic, Red grew more comfortable and she and Grandma Elena chatted about the weather, the festivities, and so on.

Soon enough, it was getting late. Even though they estimated that it must’ve been past nine o’clock, the sun shone high in the sky, as bright as ever with a blue as clear as a glass of water. Grandma Elena voiced concern about leaving so late, but Red insisted on getting back home. And besides, the sun wouldn’t set for a few more hours. She had time. After reassurance and confirmation that Red would send her grandmother letters, Red left the small cottage with an empty basket.

A little on edge, she refrained from swinging her basket too jovially, constantly looking over her shoulder. The path to Darkwood was empty, marked by the path as the ground morphed from woodchips to planks. Red tried whistling a tune she’d heard the day before, when a travelling band played during the party.

A whine from off the path caught her attention. It was a like a slow wheezing sound, like wheels grinding together, or a blacksmith blowing into their fire pit. Curious, she strayed off and peered into the trees. There was the faintest trail of blood, sending her on edge.

 _Someone’s hurt!_ , she thought. She immediately followed and was surprised to find a wolf laying in a hollowed out tree. She yelped in shock and shuffled back, having fallen down on her butt. But it made no move to attack, nor opened its eyes. Red crawled closer. Blood puddled around the poor thing, covering the entrance of the log. She was not sure, but a voice in the back of her head whispered that this was the same wolf that saved her.

And now she would save him.


	3. You save me, I save you

Now, Red was absolutely not a healer in any capacity of the word. She did not care about healing potions or herbs when she was in school nor was she good at taking care of the sick and feeble. But she was certainly knowledgeable in bandaging and stopping blood flow. Which is why she was somewhat frantic at the sight of this wolf, the one who’d saved her, being so still and pale. He must’ve been here for hours, just bleeding out slowly.

With tentative fingers she explored the wounded area, checking every two seconds to ensure the wolf wouldn’t jerk awake and bite her hand off. There were many deep gashes. A lot of the blood had hardened up and matted the fur down, making it difficult to part and check properly. She’d have to clean it.

She glanced around and cursed, for the sound of rushing water seemed so far away. Her mind raced with thought; she could run to the river and use her skirt as a cloth? No, it was too far, besides she didn’t have a bucket and the water would go right through the spaces of her basket. She rubbed her hands together, sticky with blood. She’d have to try.

“Please do not die on me,” she whispered watching the wolf’s chest rise and fall slowly.

She hiked her skirts and went running down the path she came from, not stopping even though her lungs burned and her thighs ached. Once she reached the wreathed door, Red didn’t bother with pleasantries and nearly tore the door out on its hinges, speaking in all one-breath.

“GrandmotherIneedyourhelpwheredoyoukeepyourhealingpotions?”

Grandma Elena stared at her bewilderingly, not following at all. “Red, what-“

Red hunched over and took deep breaths before trying again. “Grandmother I need your help.” Inhale, exhale. “Where do you keep your healing potions?”

Grandma Elena pointed over to the cabinet by the bathroom. “Red, what is going on?”

Marching over and ruffling through the items, Red huffed. “The wolf that saved me is dying.” She examined the bottles as her grandmother stayed quiet, making sure to take what she thought were the appropriate elixirs. Gathering what she needed, Red faced her grandmother. “I have to save it.”

The determination in her granddaughters eyes surprised the old woman, but Grandma Elena nonetheless hurried to her bedside table and opened a small drawer. She pulled out a see-through vial containing a colourless liquid. In her feeble state, she did her best to hobble over, with Red meeting her half way. The vial was clasped firmly between their sets of hands.

“Give this to the wolf. Make sure he drinks all of it, and I’m sure he will be fine.”

Red nodded and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Thank you Grandmother. I’ll return these to you tomorrow, I swear!” she called out as she ran out.

“I’m sure you will,” said Grandma Elena, the smile dropping from her face. She shuffled to a portrait of their family, the three women smiling. A pocket in the wall revealed itself as she lifted the frame. She reached inside and picked up an old portrait sketch, stared at the people it held for a moment before trailing her gaze after the open door. “What have you gotten yourself into, my dear Redwyn?”

* * *

It was getting darker. The sun was setting in the horizon, raising Red’s adrenaline and franticness. There were too many bottles- why did she take so many bottles? Why didn’t she take her basket? The bottles were clutched tight against her chest, with the small vile still in her hands. She felt herself tire and willed to go _just_ a bit further. _Don’t stop until you reach the wolf_ , she said to herself like mantra.

The wolf was still there. Oh god, its breathing was even shallower than before. Red emptied her arms’ treasure as carefully as she could on the floor and opened all the corks, ripping her skirt to use as a rag. She anointed the different stuffs onto the cloth and wiped the wound down, hoping it would sanitize and clean _something_! Then she took the small vial in her hands, unscrewed the cap, and out of curiosity sniffed it. Unsurprisingly, it was odourless.

“All of it,” Red repeated, breathing deeply.

A new concerned emerged: how would she get this down the wolf’s throat without being attacked? In the back of her mind a voice said that being attack was unlikely, but her fear still stood. Scooting closer to its head, Red tentatively raised its gums. Those were a lot of sharp teeth. She gulped and pulled away.

“You got this, it’s okay. You can do this.”

She tried again, this time braving enough to touch its teeth and just barely pull its jaw apart. The wolf stirred. She froze. A beat passed. Then another. She pulled more until there was a gap large enough for her arm. Even though there was no time to lose, she sent a quick prayer, stuck her hand in its mouth and poured the liquid down its throat. The wolf’s eyes shot open and it resisted. But it was still too weak that its teeth barely hurt her.

“Trust me, this is for your own good!” she grimaced, holding his head down. After a few seconds she retracted her arm, grossed out by the smell and slime but still with enough sense to not wipe it on her skirt.

The wolf squirmed tiredly. Eventually it closed its eyes, its breathing slowing. At first Red panicked, shaking the wolf in order to keep it awake. As she observed, she saw that instead of dying slowly, its breathing was slowing because it was breathing deeper. _That’s good right?_ , she wondered. Waiting a bit, she decided to wash her arms in that faraway river, content that the wolf had stopped bleeding and seemed to be recovering.

Surprisingly, the river was not as far as she’d initially thought. Pass the hill of forest was the rocky beaches of the rushing river. Finding a stable spot, Red bent on her knees and cupped the waters to rinse her arm, scrubbing all the way to her shoulder. The blood was particularly difficult to rub, having dried in her fingernails. It was barely bright now; she should have brought a torch with her.

Sitting back, Red sighed. This day was too much for her. What was she going to tell mother? With a jolt, Red suddenly remember that she was expected home before dark. Oh, she was going to get an earful now. She groaned at the prospect.

As she stood up and wiped her arms on her skirt, Red had the strangest sensation that somebody was watching her. In the last glimpses of sunlight, she turned around, hoping to find out who it was when she saw several pairs of glowing eyes. _Wolves_.

First the mountain lion, and now wolves? This day could not get any worse.

They were far enough away that their figures were hard to make out, but she could guess there were about four of them. She didn’t try to move, and neither did they. It was a face off while everything dipped into darkness. Red was nowhere near the treeline of safety, her heart beating louder than the rushing water. She waited. One by one, the pairs turned around out of sight, as quickly as they came. One last golden pair of pupils lingered on her, as if in warning, then disappeared.

Red wanted to cry out in relief, but in fear that they would come back, settled for balancing against a boulder. After splashing water on herself to cool down, she slowly made her way back to her wolf.

 _Just don’t think about it, just don’t think about it_ , she repeated over and over, gripping to trunks as she slid down the hillside. _It’s fine; they aren’t following you_. And she felt it to be true; the watched sensation was gone. Replaced only now with acute jitters. Every snap she made with her boots against the forest floor scared her. Constantly having to remind herself that the noises she heard were her own was exhausting.

By the time she’d got back to her wolf, she had half convinced herself the whole ordeal didn’t happen.

The wolf was gone.

She blinked and felt around the spot it had lay in. Warm, but empty.

“What the heck is going on today?” she moaned, scratching her head.

An eagle couldn’t have possible taken the body. Another wolf? Did wolves eat other wolves? Maybe that mountain lion came back for revenge?

A whimper sounded from behind her. _There he is._ She followed the sound, deciding that this lack of light was really bothering her. But her skirts were soaked and there was no flint on her to start a fire. The clouds started to part, revealing the full moon, and the barest of clear light. It was something.

“Here wolfie, wolfie, wolfie,” she called out like she called to the kittens hiding beneath the huntsman’s shed. “Come on out, I’m here to help you.”

With the moonbeam’s help, she could make out the faint outline of the wolf limping away. Just as she started to quicken her pace, the wolf began to glow. Wisps of silvery light circled around its body, raising the wolf up into the air. Red shielded her eyes as the light grew too intense, blinded, and could feel the intense heat emanating from the light. She’d never really seen magic but could guess that that was what was happening.

Her eyelids stopped seeing red and she opened her eyes again, widening them as her sight adjusted to the darkness. The wolf was replaced by a boy.

A naked boy.

Red averted her eyes, staring in to the canopy as the boy toppled face-down with exhaustion. For a beat nothing happened; Red slowly brought her gaze down, trying hard to skip her gaze over the smooth bum of the wolf-boy. Untying her apron, Red stepped toward the stranger, cautious as if he still had the claws and teeth of a wolf.

As she knelt down and covered his waist, Red couldn’t help staring at him. In the moonlight this boy looked soft, his hair black and shaggy, uneven in places; he looked younger than she’d expected. He looked no older than her. He also looked like death, with swallow cheeks and pale skin. One hand was clutching his stomach where the wound was.

 _What should I do?_ , she wondered, staring at his face. It was too late to go back to Grandmother’s, and Darkwood was too far away. Explaining this to anybody who would help would be too much for right now.

The boy stirred, his hands twitching. Red moved back, but with less fear than before; all she had in her eyes was curiosity. He seemed to be reaching out, as if grabbing somebody’s hand, and tried to move his body. It seemed too much for him, as he curled up in pain and grunted.

“Stop moving,” Red said softly, more to herself than to him.

He heard her and paused. It was almost comical how his head turned to her, eyes unfocused on her person.

“Damien-“ he croaked, wincing as his head dropped to the gravel. “Help . . . him.”

“Who is Damien?” Red asked, crawling closer. She wanted to rip into her skirt again to make bandages, concerned that all this movement reopened anything Grandma Elena’s potion tried to fix. “Who are you?”

The boy opened his mouth. The moonlight slowly faded as the clouds rolled in. The boy’s eyes closed as his body relaxed into a slumber.

* * *

Will awoke with a start. His abdomen hurt like nothing before and was . . . wrapped around? He couldn’t see without his night vision anymore, but felt the tightness around his body. These weren’t the medical bandages he’d used to receive whenever he would scratch his legs or break his arm a lifetime ago. He tried to sit up and groaned.

“Hold on,” a voice sang out in the dark. Small, cool hands touched his arm and back, gently getting him up to rest against a tree stump.

Will hoped they couldn’t feel his heartbeat, because it was thumping against his ribcage like nothing else. His back was bare, feeling all the ridges of the tree poke into his skin. Even his ass was naked, feeling all the little stones and twigs pressing against him. He became acutely aware of the fact that if his ass was bare- his reached down to cover his crotch, flushed red. There was an apron draped on him- thank God.

Only he could screw up his first human interaction in years by being naked.

The movement was picked up by his friend (or foe?), who laughed nervously.

“Yeah sorry, I needed to fix you up.” It sounded like a girl. A girl was talking to him, was touching him.

His throat was dry and scratchy so instead of confidently thanking her, he cringed at how his voiced squeaked. “Thank you for saving me.”

She seemed to shrug in the darkness. “I’m just returning the favour.”

 _Returning the favour?_ , he frowned as he searched for his memory. _Right! There was girl_. He lurched forward and reached out blindly. How he wished for his night vision to come back for now. The girl grabbed his hands, shushing and urging him to relax, saying things about wounds opening and needing rest. He didn’t care about any of that, he just wanted to see her face, to let her know how grateful he was. If only he was wearing clothes.

“Can you get my clothes?”

“What?” she seemed to laugh, loosening her grip on him.

He reaffirmed his own grip, pulling her close to him. “My clothes. I have a den not too far from here. Do you know the woods well?”

Her hesitance was thick in the air and she tried pulling away.

“It’s dark-“

“Please!” he begged, reaching for her chin so she was level with him. “Please, I only have this night to wear them.”

The clouds parted and her face became clear. Was this the girl he saved? Without the pure fear in her eyes and shock marking her face, she was actually quite pretty. Their eyes met for the first time properly, and Will felt time slow. He could see her study his eyes, constantly flickering between them as if she were trying to spot the differences.

“Please,” he repeated, letting go of her face. “I would go myself but . . .”

Her gaze travelled to his abdomen. She sat back on her heels, still staring at him but with knit brows. It seemed as if a million thoughts were bouncing around in that head of hers, racing to see which outcome would be her first action. Her answer came slowly.

“Fine,” she said, gathering herself and standing up. Will breathed a sigh of relief, anxious to get some pants on him. “Where is this den of yours?”

* * *

Of all the things she expected to be doing tonight, half-carrying a wolf-boy to his den to fetch his clothes was not on the list. With one arm around the firm waist of the wolf-boy and her other hand keeping his around her shoulder, Red staggered at a slow pace. They’d tied her apron around his hips and gently coaxed him standing up.

She’d insisted on going alone, but he rebutted that he wanted to come along. With the glowing eyes still haunting her mind, Red reluctantly let him come, secretly relieved to have companionship in the dark.

Before long they’d reached his den. Wolf-boy dropped to his knees and uncovered neatly folded clothes. Red let the natural darkness envelop her as she turned around, her heart betraying the confidence that they were alone. Her eyes began to droop. No, stay awake. The dark forest was not a safe place to sleep in. Behind her he must’ve had some light, since soft orange light illuminated their little pocket of the forest.

What was mother doing now? Red tapped against her arm, antsy to return home and leave whatever strangeness this was behind. Hopefully she only thought that she was with grandmother; a search party was the last thing she wanted right now. With a glance behind her, she thought about the wolf-boy and how she would have to explain that to anyone- if anyone would believe her at all! And judging by how far away he was to any human person, Red got the suggestion that he didn’t want hang out with people either.

“There we go,” the boy sighed. Red turned around and could faintly make out trousers that were too short for his long legs and a simple plain linen shirt and dark plaid waistcoat. His smile radiated off him, infectious that Red couldn’t help smiling too.

“I guess you have not been to a tailor in a while?” she teased, gesturing to his exposed ankles.

The wolf-boy chuckled, but clutched his abdomen and transitioned into a cough. Red stepped closer and helped him ease down, tucking her skirts beneath her. She watched his handsome face contort into a grimace. In the soft glow, she could really see that he truly was good looking, that it wasn’t a trick of the moonlight. She flushed and quickly averted her eyes as his blue ones found her staring, taking instead to admiring his little home. It was a typical wolf den, no doubt, but there were subtleties that she realised gave away his magic status. The miniature wall drawings, the pockets in the wall that held silver trinkets, and of course this miniature lamp. Red traced the glass, transfixed with the shadows made against the den.

“I must repeat: thank you for saving my life.”

Red glanced at him with a shy snort.

“No really. I’ve met people who would rather skin me alive than help me. You didn’t have to do that,” he said, keeping his full attention at her. The full force of his gratitude was too much for her to handle. Instead, Red decided to change the subject.

“How did you become a wolf anyway? And what did you mean you could only wear your clothes for this night?” Her callousness was not felt by the wolf-boy- “And what’s your name?”

Wolf-boy focused on his bandaged torso, which seemed to be healing up nicely and wasn’t seeping blood anymore. Red made a mental note to ask Grandma Elena what was in that potion.

“My situation is . . . a long and complicated story. A witch did this to me, for just reasons.” He couldn’t meet her eyes. “I killed her son. She took revenge. I now can only be human during the full moon every month.”

Red was not expecting that.

“And your name?”

He hesitated. “My name is William. You can call me Will.”

Red smiled and offered her hand. “Hi Will. I’m Redwyn. My mother likes to call me her ‘Little Red Riding Hood’, but please just call me Red.” He took her hand and shook it, laughing casually, revealing the dimples in his cheeks and his crooked canines. She felt herself grow safer and safer around him and fought against her fatigue as they talked into the night.

* * *

“Redwyn, wake up! Wake up!”

From her deep slumber, Red was shaken to the present by the very large hands of the Huntsman. His wild hair and bearded face alarmed her momentarily before she realised her surroundings. She was still in the dark forest, and it was bright. She’d spent the entire night in the forest- the realisation paled her.

“Thank goodness you’re alright,” the Huntsman growled, stepping back to grip his axe. “There are wolves wandering these woods.” He gestured at the dried blood that stained her dirndl. “Be glad you aren’t hurt.”

Red blinked more and found that she was beside the path, her basket filled with the potion bottles and blood-caked fingernails the only indicators that last night had actually happened and wasn’t just a dream. The towering trees sang with the breeze, promising to keep her secret to themselves.

“Is my mother-“

“Gwen asked me before I left this morning to check for you along the path. You had her mighty scared last night, pacing around in my hut like that.” He gruffed, keeping his sights on the treelines. “Best be getting home now, little Red.”

Doing as he said, Red scampered down the road, not stopping until she was in front of her house. With shut eyes, she breathed in deeply and prepared herself for the storm that would come.

She opened the door.


End file.
